Just Presence Alone
by Doll's.Stare
Summary: What if Kaoru had existed during Kenshin's childhood? How would this affect the outcome of his life? Bound by childhood sacrifices, growing up they cry and smile together, but war looms, always waiting to destroy. How will things go now?


**I'm sure this plot has been done before--many times. Still, I'll give this a try and see if it comes out any different. 'Kami' here refers to a Japanese deity, whatever one I leave to your imagination. I suspect the chapters will be short for this story, so if you don't like this fact, don't read.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from Rurouni Kenshin, or the manga itself. This won't be repeated in future chapters.**

**Warnings: Violence, bloody scenes.**

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_Chapter 1--Mutual_

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A small red-haired boy watched fearfully as the world around him turned red, crimson liquid spraying from stabbed and decapitated bodies. Swords gleamed menacingly in the dim moonlight, their silver sheen rusted over with red smears. The grass around him was slippery from the bloody rain.

Three young women forced him back, blocking the scene of chaos from his vision with their taller bodies. A small, soft body, even smaller than himself, collided with him from behind—Kaoru, the only other child in this slave group and a girl even younger than him. Tears pooled in her blue eyes and trickled down her cheeks, the fear that caused them so infectious that he could almost feel the clear liquid slide down his own cheeks—ah, there really were tears falling from his eyes! Violet eyes connected with cerulean, and they clung together, shuddering, hand in hand and cheek to cheek, mutual fears and mutual tears turning the two small children into one shared soul of fear and confusion and helplessness.

_Oh Kami, please help us! _They wept, even as the three women protecting them fell to the sword of the enemy, and their shared tears took on a faint pink hue from their sacrifice.

The enemy loomed over them, grinning, sword high in the air and ready to fall. The two children shrank back, eyes dilated in fear, waiting for their seemingly inescapable fate. Waiting for crimson to cover their bodies, and black darkness to take over their vision. Waiting for death.

It never came.

A red bloom blossomed from the enemy's chest and he fell, a stunned expression on his face. The sword tip which caused the bloom retracted from the body. Following the movement of the sword, the two children's eyes widened impossibly as they glimpsed the white-clad giant that had just saved them. Two narrowed dark eyes stared back at their shivering forms calculatingly.

After several seconds of staring, the two children managed to gather enough of their wits to look around. Astonished, they took in the numerous dead bodies of their attackers that littered the ground, beside those that they had killed just moments before their own death. Body after body they encountered, all splashed in their cooling life blood, yet not a single one stirred.

They were the only survivors.

What were they to do? They snapped their gazes back towards the white giant that had just saved them—only to see him walk away, as if uncaring of their fate.

They watched the giant until the night swallowed his tall, bulky form completely, hiding even the whiteness of his coat from their tear-blurred vision. The two children looked at each other uncertainly for a few moments before a mutual decision was silently reached.

Wiping the blood and tears from each others' faces, they set to work burying the bodies around them.

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The white giant came back again when dawn broke. Red-tinged orange rays revealed a rough, unrefined graveyard of crosses where a massacre scene once was. Two children stood in the centre, facing three graves specially marked from the others by stones set in a certain pattern. Around the crosses of these specially marked graves was a strip of bloodstained blue cloth tied in a knot, presumably from the bottom of the girl's kimono judging by its raggedly torn appearance. Both children looked so very sad and lonely, so much so that it caused a twinge in the heart of the normally indifferent giant man who had expected them to just die. He walked over to them.

"You did this?" he asked, noting both the children's lacerated, dirt-smudged hands.

"We didn't have any flowers to lie over these graves though," the red-haired boy said.

"So we used part of my kimono instead," the girl finished.

"It was the least we could do...they protected us," the red-haired boy explained, and proceeded to name each grave.

Two fresh tears slipped soundlessly from the girl's strangely blue eyes (so very unusual for a Japanese person). The boy reached out and took one of her hands in his own, and the girl held tightly onto it. The two stood, facing him in their threadbare, blood spattered clothes, shivering and uncertain and alone but for each other.

These two were strong, the tall, muscular giant decided. If not physically, than spiritually. The physical aspect he could fix up in the boy—he'd been looking for an apprentice to pass his sword style on to. What to do with the girl though? Somehow, he got the impression that the two would not be very happy to separate. He didn't want to have to deal with the whining and tears splitting them might cause.

Might as well take her too, and teach her some of the chores around the house, he decided. She'd earn her keep that way when she was old enough. His future apprentice would wish he was somewhere different when they started training.

"What's your name?" he asked the red-haired boy abruptly.

"Shinta."

"That name is too weak for a swordsman."

"Kenshin," the girl suggested timidly. Shinta hesitated, and then nodded. The giant transferred his stare to the girl.

"Your name?"

"Kamiya Kaoru."

Strange, she still retained a family name despite being a slave.

"Very well. Come," he beckoned, and then turned and walked away.

Hand in hand, the two children followed.

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